


Sex, Death, and Landscapes

by Nugg



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sakamoto Ryuji, Death, Fluff, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Its a heavy fic, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sad and Happy, Sex, Sorry but there’s more plot than porn, They’re older in this too, but it gets better, but the porn is still good, there’s also sex so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nugg/pseuds/Nugg
Summary: It’s all about the mistakes, and how you did them well.— Ryuji has to deal with the emotions and uncertainty that come with his fathers sudden passing, luckily Akira is there to help him along the way.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so kinda clickbait but the smut is in chapter two. 
> 
> This will be three chapters mark my words. Chapter two is literally almost done, so you can expect that soon. I just wanted to get something out bc it feels like ages!

He’d gotten the call around noon on a Wednesday. Sitting in the apartment, typing away on the last bits of his thesis, the pale grey light that filtered into the living room had been dragging him to want to sleep, slowly pulling him out and away from concentrating on his work. Akira wouldn’t be home until later, picking up a shift at the cafe because he didn’t have any classes today, so without him to stop any eyes from drifting shut, a nap seemed far too likely. 

Never would he have thought he’d be plopped on a couch in a shared apartment, and that was the just tip of the iceberg here. He was working on his senior thesis of  _ university,  _ it was almost over, all flying by while Ryuji thought the whole time that  _ he’d never make it.  _ All that, bundled together with an engagement ring glistening on his finger even when the light didn’t strike it. If you would’ve told him back when he stumbled into a palace with a stranger, that he’d be getting married to that stranger years later, he’d laugh. He’d ask if you were out of your mind. 

Initially, of course he thought Akira was good looking, time went on and it was natural, they had chemistry and so many shitty circumstances that made them alike. It wasn’t a smooth sail to this point, they had their moments, but like every good relationship, they had to come across them every so often. They’d just started to buy boxes, only after successfully applying for American citizenship to live comfortably without the restrictions Japan had for same sex couples. He can remember how nervous he was when Akira got the okay first, always one to doubt himself,  _ what if he got denied?  _

That question could answer itself now. It would only be two months from then until they made the move. 

Sure they’d miss their friends, their family… but opportunities were knocking on their thin apartment door, and they had to open it before it broke. Tiny splinters of what they’d miss would fall at their feet if they’d waited any longer. Plus, they’d be a plane ticket away, and his mother already promised to come and visit. Everyone had their flights in order for their wedding too, planning half of it overseas being one of the most difficult things to manage. 

Life seemed to be peachy. Even if finishing and revising a dumb paper he’d been working towards for the last four years was grueling, everything was just,  _ great.  _ There were still the night terrors, and the moments he froze up in remembrance, but they didn’t weigh him down. He refused to let it. He had Akira to fall back on, arms to close tightly around him, and gentle touches, his soothing voice, to bring him out of his trances. No matter what, Ryuji would return all those gestures if needed, and do all the same without a question. He almost laughed out loud at the memory of the night he’d rescued him from a bar his running mates drug him to… 

What should’ve been a painful memory and reminder, was placed in a sort of faded pastel haze. Only remembering his fiancées face, and the way he switched such an awful experience into something tender. Smiling at his jokes, and only caring about the fact that Ryuji was okay.  _ That _ was a big example of how wonderful life was when he’s in the world. 

He’d been dazing for a while, distantly knowing his mind was sidetracking what was sitting in front of him. Word document blinking and awaiting more typing where he left off, he wasn’t brought back to the ground by his own volition. 

If the phone hadn’t rang, he would’ve still been thinking, which sometimes wasn’t a good thing for him. 

The caller ID showed his mother’s bright smile. A photo taken a few Christmases ago when they gave her of all things,  _ a baking set.  _ Living out her post-Ryuji life fulfilling her culinary desires, apparently all the ladies she worked with would adore the pastries Ryuji used to make. And she yearned to replicate them in her free time.  _ She was so happy.  _

“Hey ma!” He was cheery, glancing out the window to see rain patter against it now, light little drops against the glass. Distantly he wondered if he’d packed an umbrella for Akira when he left this morning… “What’s up? Ya not working today?” 

He heard a sniffle, “...Juji.”

Bolting up, not caring for his laptop making an awful creak when it fell to the floor, what he thought was a casual call was going to take an immediate turn, “Momma what’s wrong? Are you crying!?” 

She took a moment, he could swear his heart was beating right out of his chest then, “Juji it’s about your father.” 

Face darkening, and heart growing cold now, he gripped the phone, white knuckled and almost immediately angry at just the mention, “What did he do!? Did he show up to the house? Did he contact you? I swear to ‘effin god Ma if he-“

“Ryuji… he’s dead.” 

He froze, not realizing he was already sliding his shoes on to go find her. Hand bracing the wall as he tried to get them on perfectly in one second, it was like in a flash, something in him just… broke. Standing by the door, he was glad he was already bracing the wall when she finally told him, because he most likely would’ve fallen to the ground just as quickly as his laptop did.  _ Maybe he’d make a weird creaking noise too?  _

At this point in his life, he’d really forgotten what his father even looked like… of course his voice stayed. It sometimes rang in his head in the middle of the night, occupying his dreams and accompanying a faceless man who towered over him. The shadowed guy had never spoken, the world was nothing more than crosshatched grey that drove on for miles and miles. Stretched into an endless distance. Something he could never run for with that kind of roadblock in his way, ambient, and terrifying to see his dad like that. To even see him again in general. 

It’s not like he tried too hard to make that face a whole image, anyway. He was frankly fine not remembering his eyes, or nose, or what type of facial hair he had. He always loved a good mystery, so his inability to remember what he truly looked like, would have to be categorized somewhere between ‘childhood trauma,’ ‘distractions,’ and ‘things he enjoyed.’ 

The world slowed. It didn’t stop moving. Because he learned long ago that the world  _ never  _ stopped moving for you. No. Matter. What.

He’d stood empty in the living room. Heart seizing, chest tight beyond any comprehension that he had lungs in the first place. The wind was completely and utterly sucked from every possible part- every crevasse in his pale, pathetic body. 

_ “He’s dead.”  _

What was Ryuji supposed to do with that information? Was he meant to pump his fist in the air and cheer at the loss of life? At the world losing a man who used to grab his hair by the roots and drag him places? How could he feel sad for such a disgusting human? The smell of cigarette smoke coming through his nose at just the memory, the scars of tiny circle shaped holes on the underside of his arm had started to sting like they did when he was first burned. 

_ What was Ryuji supposed to do?  _

_ How was Ryuji meant to feel?  _

_ Why couldn’t Ryuji feel?  _

__ Someone had stolen his bones, it was as if he was the husk of someone who used to be able to function. They’d replaced every part of him with jello, now a standing sculpture made of goop, that if someone so much as whispered, he’d fall to the ground and shatter. 

Maybe the rain had somehow seeped into the room, because he suddenly felt wetness to his face. Fresh tears falling from his eyes, maybe he was mimicking the rain… maybe maybe maybe.  _ Maybe that’s what he wanted himself to think.  _

Maybe he was crying because he genuinely felt sad about the death of a man he hardly knew as anything but complete hot garbage. 

“Ryuji, I’m so sorry.” She apologized, like she needed too, like it was necessary, “I know you don’t know how to really feel right now.” 

She was completely right, but then again when was his mother ever wrong? The last time she was, was when she assumed her little baby boy was as straight as a nail. Come to find out that after years of torment and dealing absolute hell, that the nail seemed to have been struck sideways by a hammer a few times. 

He pushed off the wall. Trying to make it to the bedroom to do…  _ something.  _ Anything but stand there and let the words “he’s dead,” sink into his flesh and cause a sort of rash. Stopping in front of the window with fresh rain drops on the glass, like his legs locked up, and told him to stop moving. 

Suddenly his knees gave out, and he fell to the ground in a heap of pathetic sobs. Ones that wracked his body, phone barely to his ear as the hardwood floor accepted his cold skin. His poor neighbors below probably wondered what the loud bang was in their ceiling. They’d never know that someone’s world was falling apart just above their nice family board game night… or whatever it was normal families did on a Wednesday afternoon. The question going around in his head of:  _ why do I feel sorrow for this man?  _

Broken cries, barely coming out. He sat hunched over, shaky breaths coming in between whatever whale noises fell from his lips next. This was a meltdown like no other. He knew why he was upset when he locked himself in his bathroom and dyed his hair back in high school. He knew why he was broken when he began to cry under a tree in a park after he risked his life for his friends and got pummeled in return. 

When he confessed to Akira, and didn’t immediately get a positive reaction, he knew why he’d run away to vomit in the first open restroom he’d seen. Not a care to the fact that he’d just abandoned his best friend as he heaved over the cheap porcelain. 

But this attack was something new, and different. He didn’t know what he felt, whether it be anger, sadness, sickness… maybe it was some intoxicating mix that made him lack any sense to pull himself together like the times before. 

“Hey monkey brain what’s-“ 

He barely heard the sound of soft paws patting on the floor, bounding towards him, “Ryuji what’s wrong?” 

Limp, tears streaming down his hot face, all he could see was a watery version of the hell-born cat, looking as concerned as his furry features could manage. Through these years after they fought as the Phantom Thieves, and bickered in real life, the cat and him had grown closer. Their own special little bond, the usual shared teasing and taunting was light hearted now. 

Despite the hatred of his own little body, and all the griping he’d ever done when someone treated him like one;  _ Mona was a cat.  _ And to see such a broken version of the guy who he heard Akira define as: Sunshine, was just plain unnatural, and he’d do anything to fix it. 

What he used to do for Futaba when she was in a pit of depression, he decided to do for Ryuji, “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, Ryuji… but unfortunately, I’m a cat…” 

The guy sniffled, and turned his head to the cat just in time for him to continue, “Would you like me to lay with you? I’ll even let you pet me… and maybe I’ll purr, who knows?” 

If you looked hard enough you might’ve caught the slightest hint of a grin. Hidden far beneath the sorrow written deep, even into his pores, his eyes were already red from just a few minutes crying.

A tear fell to the hardwood floor before he did anything. Body unfairly heavy to lift up, it was uncanny how dark the sky had gotten in just the half hour it took for him to break down completely. 

_ How long had it been since he dropped his computer..? It seemed like years.  _

He rubbed at his eyes, and picked up his phone once more, knowing his mom would’ve never left the line, “Mama, I’m gonna take a while to process this all. I’ll call ya back, mmkay?” 

Morgana of course couldn’t hear the other end, but if it was Mrs. Sakamoto, it would’ve been nothing short of comforting and kind. Her words sweet like honey, sometimes he wondered how such a brash kid could come from her. But moments like this, where Ryuji would turn to him with a wavering smile that showed his gratitude even when he was in pain, had shown him a good example of their kinship, and how strong of a person he had grown to be. Ryuji could be gentle when he wanted to be, even if that was accompanied by reddened eyes, shaky breaths, and tear stained cheeks. 

With his hands so lightly grabbing for the cat, he stood. Wobbly, like he was back in physical therapy learning how to walk all over again, the warmth of the animal in his arms grounded him. Holding on tight as he took the overly difficult steps to his bedroom, not bothering to turn off his laptop, or flick on any lights. 

There was a windowsill that Akira was excited about when they first moved in. With a thick enough ledge to sit comfortably, he often woke to the smell of coffee, and the love of his life illuminated by the early hour life of Tokyo. Sitting in that window he gushed about, looking down to the street with a smile. 

If he were to lay down, he’d likely never get back up again. So, grabbing a soft throw blanket from their bed, he took his spot in the window himself. Feeling empty, like he wasn’t even controlling his own limbs, Ryuji wrapped himself in the fabric, and let Morgana lay in his lap. Glancing briefly at the skyline before he rested his head against the glass, he fought off the urge to fall into his old memories. Not wanting another panic attack this soon. 

These types of meltdowns were the absolute worst. Ones that not even deep breathing could get him through, isolation of himself and his thoughts was really the only cure to come down from it. Isolation being a loose definition, as more often than not, he was close to his fiancé. Breathing him in over anything else, the dark places his mind went to were lit up by Akira, practically standing there with a torch. 

But to rely on someone to help fix you was a toxic trait. So maybe he could work this out on his own..? 

The apartment being dark, world terribly heavy, and the warmth of a cat in his lap. It wasn’t hard to zone out. To blankly look out the window without focusing on a single thing, and emptying his head of any feeling. Of course it had to rain, mood outside just as depressing on the inside, where he sat. Heart feeling lumpy, and body feeling weak. 

Morgana soon fell asleep as he pet him, feeling the purrs coming from his body as they sent the smallest of vibrations to his legs. He’d never truly put into words how grateful he was that the cat was doing this for him, knowing that after today, neither of them would speak about it. Just leaving the whole situation behind, and not letting it weigh down. Almost as if his comfort was necessary, and just a normal part of their day. 

The waterworks had stopped, and his breathing was steady again. Ryuji had felt every part or the world move when he looked out the window and to the strangely empty streets. The occasional businessman running past with a briefcase shielding his head. Students in uniforms for a school he didn’t know splashing through puddles on their way home, not caring that their parents probably would have to iron their clothes out in the next wash. 

With that, and the fading sense of daylight as more clouds rolled in. The difference between being awake, and sleeping, began to intertwine. The line blurring just enough for his eyes to be open, gazing to the city, but body heavy with sleep. 

Distantly, Ryuji wondered what he should be doing. Lulling into a trance as he thought of Akira, and how dramatic he’d be when he finally came home. Deciding to save just a bit of his sadness to have him hug away with his strong arms, when he returned. He zoned out completely, the light sound of rain and purring filling his ears. 

Dark didn’t even begin to describe the apartment when Akira came home. Dark, was the atmosphere. The complete pitch black and silence that filled their usually loud space, hurt his ears. It hurt more than any booming thing ever could. 

Either Ryuji wasn’t home, or he was in peril. Because if anyone knew how awful the silence could be to the guy’s thoughts, it was Akira. 

Closing the door gently, he set his keys down and slipped off his shoes, not sure why he was trying to be quiet. Almost like he was preserving something that honestly shouldn’t have been preserved. He could be yelling out, flicking on all the lights, panicking... but for some reason right now, he knew the mood. And that he had to tiptoe to avoid creaking floors. He also kinda knew that he’d feel absolutely stupid if Ryuji was in fact, not home, and he’d just spent his time slinking around like an intruder. 

Trying to squint through the darkness, hands out feeling for things like he was a blind man. He sighed in relief when he bumped into the couch, feeling the fabric beneath his fingers as he peered down over the back to survey the area. The minimal light the window to the street gave was not helpful in the slightest. 

Maybe his heart stopped just for a moment when he found Ryuji’s laptop open on the ground. Dying, as the screen was dim. Scenarios played in his head, but he wasn’t paying attention to them, because he simply didn’t want to. He’d rather think about something lighter. It could’ve been opened for hours, the owner deciding against Akira’s wishes to never have the computer sleep after a certain time of inactivity.

It was a dumb little thing he was too stubborn to admit was weird and wrong. And distracting himself for too long, Akira realized the implications of the laptop on its side, casting a dim glow to the floor around it. What that meant. What it could mean. 

Freezing, a multitude of things finally coursed through his mind,  _ which were mostly bad, _ calling out like he should’ve done earlier, was his best bet, “Ryuji?” 

The apartment floorboards didn’t so much as creak. 

Well, they did when he started to run on them into the bedroom. Noting that Morgana hadn’t come out to greet him and beg for food being his final straw. His mind rushed in a matter of seconds to the most illogical things. To things Ryuji would never do to himself. 

Bracing the doorway to stop his speed, everything combined had already made him out of breath, just a matter of a few feet proving who the runner of the family was. The ring on his finger made a unique noise as it brushed against the wood frame. 

Looking up, barely able to see through with the large mass blocking the window. He scrambled to the bedside table light, and quickly flipped it on. Seeing something other than complete blackness being such a relief, it took him a moment to bask in it before his senses returned, and he glanced to the window. 

“Ryuji..?” He cautiously asked, making his way over to the other with light feet. Knowing that whatever had made his fiancée resort to cuddling their cat and crying into the streets below, had required him to be gentle. 

Reaching him, the bright blue eyes opened in his lap. Mona looking up to him with as much expression in his face as possible to tell him,  _ “This isn’t a good situation.”  _

__ Lucky enough for them, they did have a little bench beneath. And luckier that the cat could read a situation even without words, his paws made a quiet thud as they met the floor. Akira taking a seat on the cushioned ottoman they got on sale at some prissy decor shop around the corner. Remembering things like that in a time like this, because how could he ever forget that when carrying it home together was a  _ bitch.  _

Looking up, and watching the shadows play against tanned skin, Akira could see the misery in his eyes. Barely visible at this angle, if he could, he’d wrap his arms around him and shield him from whatever was hurting him. Using his back to absorb what he was dealing with, and preventing any more damage to the one he loved.

But this was real life, and no matter how hard he tried, holding him in an attempt to make the pain go away wasn’t going to work. 

Reaching up, he grabbed Ryuji’s hand, the action bringing the droopy gaze down to him, “Ryu, please tell me, what’s wrong?” 

Ryuji grimaced, feeling his gut tangle all over again. The twist and turning between grief, sorrow, and confusion making him feel sick and dizzy. As if he could spin out of control and fall through the glass next to him, he didn’t like feeling like this,  _ he couldn’t possibly ever enjoy feeling like this.  _

Tears started to spill, and like putty, he slid off the windowsill and into the inviting arms below. So easily persuaded down from there, malleable in Akiras hands, he molded to the embrace, and began to weep. 

“My dad died.” He managed, leaving dark streaks from his tears to the fabric on the others shoulder. Feeling the up and down gentle touch to his back as the delicate hands attempted to sooth whatever ache needed to be tended to. 

Akira took a deep breath and began a quick search to decide what would work best to say. What wouldn’t sound too mean when discussing the passing of a man who tortured the one he loved for years on end. Causing him to have night terrors, waking up sweating at the images of him raising his hand all over again.  _ How could he be nice about it?  _

__ “This must be incredibly difficult, Ryuji.” He leaned back, hands sliding and holding the shaking shoulders so he could make their eyes meet. To show he had someone who loved him, when thinking of a man who didn’t. 

His lip quivered, looking so small under his gaze, “I don’t know how to feel, ‘Kira. I don’t- I don’t understand.” 

Nodding, the importance of his hands showed again when he moved one to cup Ryuji’s cheek, watching him lean into it like a crutch, “That’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to know how to feel. You have every right to be torn up over something like this.” 

“Jeez,” he sniffled, shutting his eyes, nuzzling into his touch as if to absorb the feeling it gave him, “You always know what to say, huh?” 

Besides that point, he’d already been wallowing for hours. So, just the slightest bit of reassurance from Akira could ease the sadness away. 

Knowing his own face, Akira’s eyes most likely crinkled at the sides when he grinned. The overwhelming fondness of someone you love could do that to you sometimes. The tender moments they shared together were always full of the best mannerisms they possessed, even if the subject matter was difficult. 

“Of course, I would hope to know the man I plan to marry.” He leaned forward, like casting out a fishing line, looking for a bite. 

Immediately Ryuji leaned back and away, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head in an attempt to hide his smile. Laughter giving it away, coaxed out of his depressive episode with such a small bit of comfort, “Why are you always so sappy? Ya gotta mention shit like that every single day, man!?” 

Shrugging like the other could see it in the position he was in, Akira grabbed Ryuji at his sides, pulling him forward, still going on his attempt to look at his face. Hearing his little sounds of struggle he made in an attempt to escape the embarrassment of letting Akira see his tear soaked face was accompanied by a smile. 

It was only the two of them who could turn grief and anger into a wrestling match. 

Finally giving up he let himself slide forward, blinking away any residual evidence of him crying, and facing the wide beam pointed at him head on, never afraid to roll his eyes, “God, you’re the worst, ya know?” 

But of course, looking at a face like that, with such a beautiful smile and genuine love glowing from his expression, nobody could be annoyed long with the view. 

He melted into the kiss placed on his lips. Moving his hands currently put up into defense to the hair that never failed to feel like silk, long black locks surrounding his fingers as they began to card through. Somehow ending up half in his lap, mouths pressed together and moving with the emotions. 

Salty remenints of his earlier crying session had still stuck to his cheeks, mashing together with Akira’s as they went along. Making out in front of that big window Akira loved, the one with the street view. And sat on the bench they bought for a steal. Completely and utterly surrounded by things that only they could have, and hold dearly enough. No matter how material they got. 

And when they finally pulled apart, their foreheads connected, looking into each other’s eyes like all the stereotypical movie scenes shared between lovers. Both grinning. 

“Thank you.” Ryuji managed.

Leaning back, Akira shook his head, “I didn’t do much.” 

Stifling a laugh, Ryuji turned to look out into the world outside, “You don’t ever really have to do much to cheer me up, Akira. ‘S what makes ya great.” 

Akira followed suit, watching a car roll by below, headlights casting a glow to the various puddles. The sun far gone, and the world a little lighter now that his lover was feeling better. 

With a clear head not clouded by his dark thoughts and painful memories, Ryuji leaned his chin on his arm, and pointed his stare at nothing in particular, “This going to be hard. The funeral and shit.”

Leaning into him, Akira nodded, “You can get through it. You’ve grown so much, Ryu, you’re so incredibly strong. I don’t have to hold your hand through this.” 

He pursed his lips and threw a glance towards the other, “... But I still can if I want to, right?” 

Akira looked to him with a dull expression, “Of course.”

“Even if they become all sweaty?” 

Rolling his eyes, he nodded, “Even if they become sweaty.” 

Although resolved, everything calmed down to a point where he could clearly think about what was going to transpire. They didn’t move from their spots at the window for a while. Both sharing the moment. 

Ryuji couldn’t imagine how to normally go about the death of your own father. A man you hated, yet still had memories of that didn’t seem so tainted. The one who brought you into the world, and the one who when he went out of it, left behind years and years of abuse and neglect. 

Nobody can call it easy. Dying was never easy, even if you loved the person. Even if they led a normal life, a loving life, it still hurt to see someone die. And maybe it was easier to let go of a man who left scars on your body and mind. Maybe.  _ But he’d truly never know.  _

__ With the man who was sitting beside him, who he’d return the favor ten times over for, he was ready to face the music and deal with the passing of his dad. Knowing that despite what he was being put against, he was still entirely lucky to have someone so great by his side. 

Which was good, because it had grown tough very quickly. 

They had rented out the smallest room at the cheapest funeral home. 

And. Still, it wasn’t small enough. 

It made him feel hollow, to see the rows of chairs, empty. Like the expectation of people eventually filing in, and filling the seats was anything but a dream. It wasn’t like they didn’t send out a death notice. They had sent out enough little postcards in the mail informing people of the date, time, and location, that it had felt like a waste of stamps. 

The sign by the door had displayed the most recent photo they had. The most recent, and one of the only ones that he was still actually in… his mother finding no fault in having oddly shaped pictures framed on the walls. She cut his face out years ago, and threw away the rest. 

Somber music flowed in with the four people who managed to come to see him. Four people got to view the very poor quality photo of a far younger man. Four people could feel the staleness of the room seep into their skin and strike their soul with an unmatched mood. Reading, “In loving memory.” As they walked through those doors, and were greeted with an urn sitting on an empty table. 

Usually there’d be vases full of beautiful flowers, stuff that erased the permanent smell of sadness this place held. Pretty colors, nice meanings that celebrated life. Incense, candles,  _ something.  _

Akira brought a bouquet of daisies and one other flower he couldn’t remember the name of, from a shop they’d passed by on the way, despite Ryuji's relentless protest. So great at dealing with these things on the surface, blank face, apologetic smile to the florist who had to overhear the quarrel of, “Does he really deserve flowers?”

He forgot he had fallen in love with a man who picked up any piece of otherwise useless knowledge. And a man who held various jobs as a teenager,  _ one being, a flower shop.  _

Picking up purple ones, he held them in front of Ryuji’s face, “This is a Michaelmas Daisy. It’s a simple farewell, hm?” 

“He’s dead.” 

Looking behind him, Akira caught the rather stunned looking guy behind the counter and turned back with a smile. Closed lip to hide the smile he wanted to show, Ryuji knew if he’d done this out of the public eye, he’d be scolded right about now.

Twirling it in his fingers, he scrunched up his face, “It’s my peace offering.” 

Narrowing his eyes, and feeling the stuffiness of the suit he was wearing down to his bones, he crossed his arms, “My Ma and I didn’t have no peace when he was smackin’ us around.” 

_ He looked like a fish with his mouth open like it was _ . It was Ryuji’s turn to glance over to the cashier with a smug grin, before looking back and catching the wave of realization that washed over Akira. 

Blinking once.  _ Hard.  _ He moved down the aisle, calculated and quick. Pulling another flower, he presented it to Ryuji elegantly, the  _ “sorry,”  _ written all over his expression as he practically bowed his head, “Here, we can sprinkle a few in.”

Spinning it around, the fluffy yellow flower petals swayed in the movement. And judging by the sly look gracing his lover's face, Ryuji was almost hesitant to ask, “What does this one mean?” 

Taking it back, Akira smiled once more, “Disappointment. Or, rejection. A little message in petal form.” 

_ This is why he loved him.  _

Watching him pluck a few more out, Ryuji felt bad for the clerk at this point, “Like, ‘goodbye, and you still suck,’ right?” 

A curt nod, he only could follow with a bit more lightness to his body as the other had gone to the register, and paid. Insult bouquet all ready to go, colors vibrant, it reminded him of his favorite jacket from high school. 

Now, they sat on the table. Akira made them look presentable as he unwrapped them from their pretty paper and placed them around the urn. Usually, they’d get extravagant tables to hold the ashes and have so much more… but this place was literally the _ cheapest they could find.  _ And the table was almost like a nightstand. Reminding him of the one they had by the door in their apartment, plain, small. The one they grabbed that was sitting beside a dumpster ready to be thrown out. 

And good on them for choosing this place. Because besides his mother, Akira, and him, nobody showed up other than some old woman. Skin tanned and extra wrinkled from years of life spent most likely working in the sun… this observation was made judging by the gardening gloves that still stuck out of her pockets. 

Ryuji would’ve thought,  _ wife.  _ But. She coiled in on herself when he asked, and practically gagged. A shame she wasn’t his stepmom, so she could share some disgust with him and have someone to talk shit to. 

“I live down the road from him. Closer to town. He was a nasty man. His home was messy, he was messy, and a drunk to top it off. But…” she trailed off, a bit of distaste falling from her expression as she did. 

Sighing, she looked like admitting it was a pain, “He kept the town convenience store open with his habits, always bought meals from there too. Made his money by being the town handyman. Kids called him ‘Smelly Sakamoto,’ always fixing something for someone at a price far too cheap, and smelling gross, like sweat, what he did was just something we had to deal with if we wanted our sinks working.” 

Ryuji smiled fondly, “I like the kids, it’s a good nickname.” 

He stopped smiling when his mom elbowed him in the side and shot him a look. 

“He actually helped build three rooms onto the school about a month before he passed. Someone came to ask him for a favor and found him lying in bed, cold and stiff. It spread around the town enough to make it to the newspapers. But not enough for the people to care to come pay their respects.” Her old age lines flexed when she grimaced, grey hair all frazzled to add to the whole look. 

She didn’t seem like she’d have any answers for him. But all he could think of was questions to ask her about his life,  _ was he sad? Did he ever talk about his life? Was he nicer?  _

__ What could he possibly feel with this information? Joy? To find out the man who left him with permanent scars inside and out, had actually led a decent life. What if his father had actually been seen as good to people… how could he take this? 

Akira noticed, because of course he did. Intertwining their fingers and leaning in a bit as a subtle sign to show him he knew. His own scowl and downward tilt in his brow softened, and the amount of love he held for the man next to him, continued to overflow. 

Somehow through everything, he knew exactly how and what Ryuji was feeling. Like an open book, with a few pages ripped out, he could still piece together a coherent story. And almost always, he found the most perfect ways to ease him out of the funk he was in. 

“My son,” his mom gestured to him, “and his partner here are going to be traveling out there tomorrow to go and clean up his place. Get it ready to be sold and grab some of his things.” His mother had gratefully taken over,  _ like Ryuji would’ve said anything anyway.  _

__ Nodding, she looked to him, “That’s lovely of you to do. I just have a very important request, young man.” 

Laughing to himself at her sudden seriousness, he leaned down a bit, “Of course, what is it?” 

“That bastard took my tupperware and never gave it back. That was expensive, I want it back.” She looked rather mad, and Ryuji really couldn’t burst out in a giggle fit in the middle of a funeral… could he? 

No. 

But he sure as hell did on the way back home. 

Still hand in hand with the guy who held him up like he was the world, the cool night air met with a warm breeze. And despite what had just happened, he was feeling just as light, as if the wind could carry him away as well. The calmness of an empty city, knowing the skyscrapers were void of any people, was an unusual sort of peaceful. And that was perfectly okay. 

Empty subway cars, the occasional passerby, just on a stroll. He’d miss things like this when they finally moved to America in a few months. Knowing that when they did return, most everything would likely change, in whatever ways, it wouldn’t stay the same. Perhaps there’d even be a third person to occupy them, boy or girl. They didn’t care about the gender of the potential child, but valued the opportunity when they spoke about it. 

Of course with the funeral done, and the world not phased by the death of an abusive old man. They had to get on with things. 

They were on their way to a small village before Ryuji had even begun to prepare himself for what might await. Bags packed, butts sore from sitting for the three hours it took to get as close to the town as possible. He wondered how the old lady had made it all in one day. 

To pass the time, Ryuji sought out deeper topics to discuss. Draping his legs over Akira’s lap and sending a pointed look with a smile back to the old-fart who glared at them when they did so. 

They’d decided they would want a surrogate in America long ago to give them a child. Of course, after comfortably settling in and getting a stable life going. The hours upon hours discussing the subject, never really felt like enough. 

There was always more to be said. 

“What would you rather want, ‘Kira? A boy or a girl.” He watched as the question hit his lovers ears, and as a grin spread across his face. 

He shrugged, “We’d do well with either. But personally? I do see us raising a little girl, and doing a damn good job at it.” 

Ryuji couldn’t help but to picture it too, feeling the warmth in his chest at the idea of a child that didn’t even exist yet, “I think what we chose to do was the best option for us. The surrogate thingy. Then like, she’s legally one of ours.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, resting his head back against the window, “Me too.”

He’d pictured it more often than he’d like to admit. The cute little shoes, the colorful outfits and simple hairstyles either of them could manage. Imagining how much more attractive his fiancée would be caring for a child they could call their own. Already knowing the smile that wouldn’t ever leave his face, they’d sure as hell try to prove to be great parents. 

And certainly, they’d be able to provide a nice world to welcome them into. Nice parents with a legally binding marriage, unlike the whole messy family registry in Japan. A comfortable income to support whatever they might be interested in as they grew, and of course room for them to spoil their child. 

And most definitely, a way better home than the one they found themselves standing in front of. Permanent grimace painted on Ryuji’s face as they took in the sight of the outside paint that was chipping, and the grass that looked like it hadn’t been taken care of for years upon years. 

Moss and vines grew around the outside, and the overall look just sold the idea that the owner really didn’t care much for the property. Lucky enough for his mom that they’d already sold the crumbling home to a little renovation team for cheaper than she even cared to think about. Just wanting it out of the way, and gone. 

“Ew.” Was all he could manage, looking the siding up and down, each panel weathered and in need of a wash, and trailing to the mailbox that had the faded lettering of his last name. Thinking something small of his dad for actually caring enough to paint it in the first place. 

Akira nodded, “I hope it doesn’t smell as bad as it looks, but I don’t really have a high expectation for it.” 

And… well? It could be worse. 

The door had to be given a bit of a nudge to open, using his good knee to finally get the right force. It hit the wall when it did finally manage to budge, a loud bang jerking him back a bit. Bumping into Akira before he almost tumbled down the steps. 

Stuff like that had made him miss the cognitive world, it was a place where his real life fears and quirks went away. Just like his reaction to loud noises, and immediate headache to the smell of cigarettes or booze. There in the metaverse, he could listen to explosions all day and not worry about so much as flinching. Not worry about being thrown back in time, attempting to choke down a panic attack. But here in the real world? He was shaken by the sound of a goddamn door. 

Thankfully, Akira placed a hand on his shoulder, soaking up all the trauma in one gesture. But, that couldn’t protect him from the awful stench that immediately rolled out of the home. 

Looking over to see a grimace on the other's face, Akira didn’t notice the fear in Ryuji’s eyes. Probably because he was avoiding any contact. Trying his best not to have his fiancée totally freak out at his hesitance and the pain this caused, and have them travel all the way back to Tokyo because he couldn’t handle the smell of an alcoholic smoker's aroma. 

“Let’s open some windows.” Akira quickly moved past him. A small bit of his kindness peeking through on entering first, taking the biggest step on his own back, Ryuji could only suck in all the clean air outside before he followed too. 

It was a cheap place. Furniture that was far older than him, floor that showed no signs of any sweeping, walls that required a dusting. Of course it wasn’t just plain awful, it was only empty for a week or so at most. 

One of the first things he did notice though, was the beer bottles littered virtually everywhere. Ashtrays filled to the brim, like it was some sort of stupid competition to see how many he could fit in the small glass bowl. 

The couch, the tables, the bare China cabinet, one thing was for certain that Ryuji could know happened after he left.  _ He never stopped drinking. _ Looking at everything, some of the bottles had probably sat for years, his lungs stinging with the fumes. Triggered like a tripwire every single time he took a breath in, inhaling the past and having the memories flood back in overwhelming waves. Pitch black water coming with the tide, threatening suck him under the surface with so much as a crack in his demeanor. 

Akira opened the large window in the living room, breathing in the air from outside, as the stench inside filtered out. Quickly moving to the kitchen to do the same thing over again… 

“See? It already smells better.” He called out, voice slightly echoing on the empty walls.

_ If it already smelled better, then why can he still feel the cigarette smoke stick to his skin? Why did it feel like someone was pressing a beer bottle to his nose?  _

He wasn’t going to cry. 

No,  _ really,  _ he wasn’t. 

Maybe it was some sort of intoxicating mixture of him not eating today, his nerves, and the awful smell surrounding him. But he was going to be sick. 

Feet creaking on the floorboards as he dashed out, clutching at his stomach with one hand, and slapping the available one over his mouth to prevent any more messes to clean, it was like the house had fallen apart behind him when he finally stepped out. 

Birds chirped along to their own happy tunes as Ryuji doubled over and let a yellow watery mess spill from his mouth like secrets did when he was tipsy.  _ Not that he got tipsy all that often anyway-  _ the long grass had tickled his calves, and the breeze had ruffled the hair he’d recently decided to grow out more. The sun was already prepared to set in just a few hours time, a few rays blinding him as he managed to find a suitable spot to dump his stomach contents onto. It seemed too pretty to do something so nasty to.

Disgusting bile rose in his throat, and stung his nostrils as he vomited. Taking a deep breath, and feeling his whole body tense, he of course could feel more coming back up. 

Wondering just what he was throwing up when all he’d eaten was a bagel five hours ago. Strings of stray spit dangling from his open mouth, still panting like puking was running a marathon, he felt gross.

He managed a pathetic,  _ “shit,”  _ before one last round of the acidic mess had been forced out. Coughing at the last bit, resting his hands on his knees, it had felt like someone shot a hell of a lot of novocaine straight into his neck. Already sleeping through his skin and affecting his esophagus, knowing it’d be sore for the rest of what would feel like eternity. 

Closing his eyes, he’d known it was likely going to be an impossibly long couple of days stuck in the hellhole that sat behind him. Grimacing at just the thought of going back in for so much as a second, it was likely to make him sick again. So he chose to focus on wiping the nasty shit from his face, disappointed in his stomach for not holding up well. 

“Are you alright!?” He heard, distantly, but still clear. Not even wanting to turn around and give that house a second glance, he settled for his undeniable love for the man behind the voice, and straightened up his back. 

Giving a weak thumbs up, he could see the concern in Akira’s face even from far away, “I just puked my guts out, but yeah I’m good now, anyways.” 

Twisting in place, instead of his stomach holding a five hour old bagel, it was filled with dread. Forcing on a smile as the ground threatened to swallow him for lying. The age old response to, “are you okay?” Was of course, “yes.” Even if your leg was being sawed off. So, he’d have to kick away the weeds starting to wind around his feet, and suck it up like always. 

… he’d probably have to do a lot of sucking up this weekend. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut!!!! I told y’all I’d get it out quickly!!

There was dust already settling in his lungs by the time the night had begun to take over the barren lands surrounding the house. Every possible surface that needed to be cleared, had been cleared. And the boxes had already begun to pile up, shoved away in the kitchen that was evidently hardly ever used. 

Half the bulbs in the place had been burned out long ago. So, a quick trip into town had resulted in two bags full of packing tape, candles, and snacks. 

Ryuji carried the takeaway food from the local mom and pop restaurant _.  _ The food being eaten on the front porch, legs dangling into the weeds as an incoming storm had loomed in the distance. The wind smelling of rain and fertilizer. 

It was quite nice to eat some rice with the beautiful and unique setting they had. So close to each other, that every so often they’d bump elbows. Frankly, Ryuji was frightened that he’d start to freak out if Akira wasn’t by his side. The anchor to his panic attacks, and the gentle touch to calm his nerves. He couldn’t do any of this alone. 

Everything about the situation seemed wrong… seemed  _ haunted.  _

Like, if Ryuji were to move one wrong item on the dirty shelves, that his father would round the corner with a hand raised high and ready to strike. Whether it be his ghost or not, he wasn’t all too sure which would be more terrifying. 

If he blinked too hard, the old man could materialize in front of him and berate him for being a homosexual. Hold him down and slap him silly for looking the way he did. Spit words at him, and hit the right places to make him feel absolutely miserable, because he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. 

It legitimately felt as if the walls were watching him. Sweeping away dust in the fading daylight before they’d found themselves out on the porch, each particle had seemed to trigger his internalized fear. 

He used to think his dad would walk back through the front door after he’d left for real all those years ago, and finally finish him off like he promised so many times.  _ He used to think that for a while after he’d left,  _ not remembering the exact point in which he felt safe enough to stare at closed doors, it had become something of the past. 

And now the past was surrounding him, and wrapping him up in all his prior fears. 

The beer bottles had given him the jitters, knowing that Akira’s proposition to pick them up himself was out of love, was one thing. But the overwhelming itch that he was pathetic enough to not clean up the mess himself, was another. 

He’d stuck to the packing of boxes. Which he should be getting used to doing pretty soon. His American Visa practically burning a hole in his back pocket, and with the amount of effort put in to gaining citizenship? It was natural for them to feel a sense of accomplishment. Giddy, looking at their apartment leasing in whatever seaside city Akira had chosen for them. Wondering how plush the carpets were, if their neighbors would be as noisy as the ones they had now… 

Marriage would come a bit after they’d settled in, gotten used to their solid jobs and understood English enough to sign a license. It was all set up and ready for them to hop on the plane,  _ all they had to do was graduate college, and they’d be on their way to relationship freedom.  _

__ “Hey, why don’t you go take a hot shower.” He’d felt a hand to his shoulder, taking him out of his daze. Quickly looking over to Akira with a bit of confusion written in his expression. 

Quirking a brow, he stifled a laugh as well, “Why is that..?” 

Akira smiled back, something about seeing it had made the land more comfortable. The rotting wood to the porch pinching his upper legs as he dangled his feet into the weeds, “You look like you’re thinking about too many things, plus we’ve been touching dusty items all day.” 

Ryuji chose to roll his eyes, knowing exactly where this concern was coming from when he caught the genuine look thrown at him. His fiancées heart was on his sleeve, and his love was so heavy it was forcing the sun to dip below the trees. Of course, he couldn’t help but to chuckle at that, “Was I that obvious?” 

Looking away from Ryuji, the answer could’ve been given without words, “I know this is difficult- being here and all. And you look like you left your mind back in Tokyo.” 

“Ah,” he nodded, watching the various plant life of the country away in the dusk, clouds coming in as a warning of a storm, “I guess you’re right. It’s suffocatin’ here… I just can’t help thinking about my childhood... and my dad of course.” 

“That’s a given.” Akira had leaned into Ryuji, their heads gently bonking into each other as they met in the middle.

Sitting for a moment, soaking up the breeze in silence. Both thinking about far too many things, it was something that they had in common unfortunately. And sometimes it just took a bit of quiet shared between them to soothe their abundant worries. 

Through all the years, and all the times Ryuji had been scolded for being too loud, neither of them would’ve thought something like this would be routine. But time ticked on around them, and they found that sitting in silence together was their best bet to think safely without spiraling. 

And besides, somehow it all felt a bit romantic. 

“I’ll make a bed in the living room, hm?” Akira was the one who broke their impromptu silent session, “I don’t think you’d want to sleep in your father's bed.” 

Scrunching up his face, Ryuji pushed away from the other to show his disgust, “Oh  _ god  _ no.” 

Before he could even comment again, a rather aggressive sneeze interrupted the scene. Causing him to blink away any sort of feeling of another one coming, he scrunched up his whole face at the tickling feeling it had left. 

“I think I have dust in my freakin’ nose.” He massaged it gently, “I’ll take you up on that shower.”  __

__ And they did just that. Ryuji took the creaky steps upstairs to the bathroom, taking time to notice the littlest things. Like the bar of soap sitting by the handles on the sink. Yellow, cheap and probably not that great on the skin, something as normal as soap had seemed unsettling to him. Staring it down for a few moments, he decided that he’d feel that way about anything his father had once previously touched. 

Then, the toothbrush. Simple, plain blue, sitting in an old mug on the opposite side of the soap. Toothpaste with the cap nowhere to be found alongside it. 

Letting the shower get hot, Ryuji felt a chill run down his spine. The tremors carrying it all the way to his feet to make them numb, and unable to move, he intensely stared at the bristles on the toothbrush. Each and every single strand had somehow seemed to be calling out to him. Whispering things and thoughts he knew were wrong and damaging to think of. 

_ One morning, your father brushed his teeth, put the brush back down, and never picked it up again.  _

__ Scrunching up his shoulders to try and shake it, the steam had started to fill the bathroom. 

_ Your dad walked those steps every day for years, and never knew his last trip up, would be his last.  _

__ Ryuji noticed the wear, a sign that the toothbrush was well used and on the older side. 

_ Your dad is dead.  _

__ Finally, he shook it off. Looking towards the showers instead of the unusually thought provoking brush sat in a ceramic mug. The whole house could cause him to spiral like that if he wasn’t careful enough. 

Letting the hot water hit his head, Ryuji found it hard to do much of anything in there. Standing, it was like he had forgotten what one actually does when they shower. Fuck the soap, fuck the face wash and shampoo… his hands didn’t move, and the fact that he wasn’t even aware of this could be frightening. 

When he finally managed to turn off the faucet, and the dripping sounds of water falling from his body had filled the tiny room. Thoughts trying to catch up with him, Ryuji was having a hard time remembering if he’d done anything at all in his time in the shower. Wondering how long he’d been in here… and what exactly did he manage to achieve, staring down at his toes like they could possibly give him an answer. 

Suds slowly moved towards the drain, and somewhere inside him, Ryuji felt relief that he’d at least used soap. 

… maybe he needed to get out of the bathroom to think properly again. 

Blinking hard, and making sure he was even still there physically, he’d decided to step out of the shower. Drying off quickly in hopes to escape from whatever weird aura the tiles of this room gave off in order to make him feel this way. 

Not nearly as fast enough for his liking, his reflection stared back at Ryuji as he dressed. And the feeling of his own eyes on himself had made the steamy place feel all the more stuffy and unbearable.

…

Needless to say, his trip to the shower was cut way too short when he bounded down the stairs. Wanting as much distance between him and the bathroom as possible, something (most likely his father.) was eating away at his mine, and he really didn’t feel like dealing with it right now. 

Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor, couches pushed away to make room, and candles lighting up the area. When Ryuji shuffled over and fell into the heap of blankets, it felt like he’d entered an entirely different world. 

When Akira joined him, and laid his head on the pillow right next to Ryuji, those worlds seemed to balance each other out. Scooting in as close as possible to absorb every good feeling the man he loved offered up with his presence. 

He guessed it was a good enough feeling for him to spill some beans he’d kept to himself for a while. Letting the subject matter of the house take over, in hopes that admitting this would ease the weight Ryuji felt the moment he came within three miles of this home. Somewhere in his strange-feeling body, he thought this could be a cop out to diving into even deeper topics. 

“You know something I’ve never told you?” Ryuji asked, turning his head as best he could in this position to capture a look at Akira. 

Humming in response, he furrowed his brow at Ryuji, “What?” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kept something like this to himself all of these years. Maybe it wasn’t even that big of a deal to anyone but him… but the feeling of dread that filled his whole being before saying it out loud, cemented something strange in his heart. 

“Right before Okumura’s palace, when shit went down between me and Mona…” his throat somehow felt thick, squeezing tight to try and thwart what should come next. 

Sighing, and taking charge of his worries, Ryuji closed his eyes, “I opened up the Nav on my phone before I was gonna go down in Mementos.”

“By yourself?” He asked, his voice a bit unsure of what this story might be. 

Nodding along, it was hard to word it without wanting to curl up in a ball and perish, “I found out my dad was down there. On a whim I blurted out his name, and it showed he was in need of a changed heart.” 

It was silent for a moment, which wasn’t uncommon for the two of them when talking like this. Always leaving room to think in each other’s presence, knowing the both of them could spiral easily on their own. 

Shifting a bit, the bit of worry in Akira’s voice made Ryuji feel strangely reassured, “And… what did you do about it?” 

Taking a deep breath, he went for it, “I went into Mementos to find him.” 

“Ryuji that was incredibly-“

Knowing what was coming, he interrupted, “Dangerous? Stupid? Dude, I know. But I was frustrated with all of you, and had nobody to tell me what I was doing wasn’t a good idea.” 

He does remember the tightness in his chest as he crossed over, his outfit materializing on him in seconds. Watching the deep red world ripple in and change around him, each grueling moment of the transformation made him far more nervous than the last. 

Standing alone on that platform and leaning out over the tracks, Ryuji saw the tunnel go on forever. At one point it turned into a haze of red, fog that not anyone could see through… and if he were to walk in that direction, nobody would ever see him. Even if they had the best eyes in the world, the Metaverse could envelope Ryuji in the void, and seal him away from anyone ever catching so much of a glimpse of him again. 

_ Standing alone on that platform _ is what made him step away from the tracks, and take a deep breath. Collecting all of his wild thoughts, or,  _ trying to  _ as there were far too many to count for… his heart still ached. 

“I wanted it so bad.” Ryuji said, eyes closed, lids showing a perfect image of that day. 

But, opening them reminded him of what he’d come to think of in the few moments he spent staring at the rails and the freaky looking walls of Mementos. The world he immersed himself into was long gone as he stared at the cracks in the ceiling, “I was in there, ready to go and find him… but I thought about what good it would do me to change his heart.” 

“Funny to say it out loud, but I  _ liked  _ not having him in my life.” He laughed lightly, feeling the eyes of Akira bore into him for saying these words so easily, “I stood there, ready to go. And thought about why I was wearing that silly costume in the first place. About why I was with you, why I was genuinely happy for the first time in years.  _ Why I wanted to be alive. _ And none of that involved the ugly mug of that asshole.” 

Akira reached over, and grabbed Ryuji’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth and leaving a gentle kiss to the skin spotted with the few freckles on the top, “I’m proud of you for realizing that, Ryuji. And thank you for telling me… I know it’s hard.” 

Smiling, somehow the story that lived in his mind rent free since he was a teenager, didn’t seem that weighted anymore, “I left the Metaverse, and I deleted his name from the app as soon as the real world was back.”

It was slightly chilly that night, and Ryuji could just barely remember the nip he felt to his nose as he watched his father's name disappear from his screen, “I didn’t need to risk my life to change his heart… god knows I probably would’ve killed him down there too. Crazy that all I probably needed, was to delete his name from the app.” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die down there,” Akira chose to comment, like he thought any otherwise in the first place, “If you were to get hurt, we would’ve never found you. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I lost you because of my own negligence.” 

Stifling a laugh, and grinning at how nice it felt for someone to say those types of things, Ryuji buried his face into the pillow, “We were silly teenagers fighting the higher powers of Tokyo. I was a hotheaded kid getting in an argument with a talking cat, feeling miserable, ready to fight my dad.”

Furrowing a brow, Akira scoffed, “What does that have to do with me being concerned over you dying?” 

“Nothing much,” he admitted honestly, peeking one eye at his lover, “I just think it’s funny. Also kinda neat that I thought about you, and decided against it thanks to Mr. Voice Of Reason right here.” 

Reaching over, Akira scooted closer, and Ryuji moved along with him, their faces mere inches apart now. The candlelight casting the most beautiful glow to the pale and slightly aged skin of the man he loved dearly, Ryuji could stay like this forever. 

It was the calm he needed. 

Something about those grey eyes, or that hair that never seemed to be tamed after all these years, and countless haircuts, soothed any ache he had. A medicine above all others, he had doubts any doctor could cure his invading thoughts just as quickly as Akira always managed to do. 

Eyelashes fluttering as he blinked, it was hard not to appreciate how beautiful Akira was. How lovely it felt to just be in his presence, and how lucky he felt to be able to kiss that magnificent face. 

Looking down to his lips like they were delicious, Ryuji hungrily captured them with his own. Snapping his eyes shut to completely melt, the hands that moved to cup his cheeks felt like they belonged right where they rested. Framing the slightly tanned skin on his face with his slender and pale hands. 

Neither of them shifted to be on top of each other for quite some time. Simply kissing in the rather awkward position until their shoulders ached, Ryuji had chosen to slightly open his mouth, moaning quietly as Akira took the hint. The two both so entirely close to each other as they moved like they were one, with each twist of his head, Akira followed along diligently. 

Even after all the years of pecks, and smooches so small they’d be forgotten by the end of the day. Ryuji and Akira still managed to make the special few count. 

As he felt Akira trail down towards his neck, his mind started to trail towards the most memorable kisses he could think of. 

Their first was awkward and extremely short. Clumsy, noses knocking into each other, Akira’s glasses fogged up, and at best, it was just a prolonged peck to his lips. Stood there gripping each other like their life depended on it, stiff and as inexperienced as one could get… it still felt absolutely magical. And he’d remembered the tingling feeling he felt on his mouth when he touched it afterwards. 

Then there was the desperate one they had right after Ryuji almost died in an ambush attack while they were filling requests. Whisked behind the Monabus after being healed, he could still taste the salt of their tears when their faces practically smashed together. 

Ryuji gasped when Akira bit down on the sensitive flesh on his collarbone, a favorite place of his to mark. The sensation of his tongue swiping over the irritated area caused his legs to squirm, and remember the sensual kiss they shared when he’d lost his virginity. A night full of distractions started off with that one, the two more nervous than either of them would ever admit. 

Suddenly, Akira shifted to take over more, draped half over Ryuji for a moment as he continued to suck away. A memory of their engagement and kiss so forceful it knocked them to the ground heated up his cheeks. And the sensation of teeth scraping across his neck in hopes to find a new spot of skin to bruise had brought him down from his own thoughts. 

It was nice to visit them sometimes… but right now he could feel the unmistakable bulge against his leg. And it proved there were more pressing matters to attend to, than Ryuji’s own need to reminisce. 

Trying to speak, and sucking in a breath before he even got a chance to, Akira had started another hickey. Ryuji moved his hands to hold his shoulders in place, it was hard to get anything out into the air but gasps… but he did manage. 

“Can we..?” He asked, knowing that the words didn’t need any more elaboration to be understood. 

Akira relented, and pulled his mouth away from Ryuji’s neck, “I’m up for it if you are.” 

Nodding, Ryuji laughed, “Of course I am. I think you are too.” He’d shifted his hand to now grope at the clothed cock nudging up against his thigh. 

A roll of thunder far away in the distance had come between them speaking. The small moment leaving space for Ryuji to try his best to stroke the hardness through all the fabric, their surroundings didn’t take away anything from this moment, if anything  _ it added to it.  _

“Is it weird that I wanna get fucked in my dad's living room?” He thought to ask, working his wrist like it was nothing, “I may just be spiteful or some shit… but it’s  _ really  _ getting me going.” 

Stifling a moan, Akira could still laugh, “It’s a bit strange, but I understand. If you like getting back at him by being fucked in his living room, I’ll gladly supply you with what you need.” 

Grinning wildly, although not seen by anyone. He couldn’t help but to be giddy at this, feeling like young teenagers again, it was never a dull moment with the two of them…  _ especially  _ when they were both horny. 

Quickly and as if it were nothing, Ryuji moved on top of Akira. Swiftly planting himself right directly on his lap with a wicked smile, it was a wordless agreement from that point forward who would be taking charge here. 

And just as quickly, they got into the swing of things. 

They’ve done it like this before. Barely any light, barely any noises. No obnoxious jokes or excessive dirty talking to sidetrack the pleasure. This was the type of sex where hard breathing filled whatever void they were attempting to close, bodies only mattering with touch, voices only sounding when they wanted to whisper,  _ “I love you’s.”  _

This was making love, the way Akira’s hands met his face, the way he melted like wax. Melted like snow on a palm, there and gone with just a simple bit of skin to skin contact. It was as if his touch was all this situation was, like the universe was made to feel it, like it was all Ryuji wanted. 

But... really he needed more. 

Wanting to take the lead, and being given the reigns like Akira ever thought of doing anything differently. Ryuji sat on top of him, feeling the hard-on press into his ass, grinning at the hands still up to his cheeks. What pure bliss he felt. 

Certainly this was also a big, ‘screw you!’ To his father. Rawing it in his living room with his future husband, little moans echoing through the empty house like nothing as they continued on in their slow quest to achieve nirvana… or- well. If nirvana meant cumming as a way to cope with your old man’s passing that is... 

The floorboards creaked, candles lighting the room flickering as they went. Shirts off, pants off, underwear off. It was windy, chilly with no heat in the home, but oh so warm in between the two of them moving against each other. 

Dick rubbing between him, he’d remembered the term for that little move and almost ruined the sensual moment by laughing. Seeing ‘hotdogging,’ on a porn sight back in high school confused him so much back then. Distracting any stupid thoughts like those with the hand currently gripping his own shaft, stroking lazily as Ryuji grinded down on the hardness below him, biting back the pleasure filled groans and saving them for the main show. 

“I want more,” he said, breathless, the rhythm he held as he rocked back and forth wasn’t enough, feeling it press, and feeling the pleasure from the slick up and down of his dick. It was impossible for him to get anywhere from here, and it had to be painful for the one below him. 

Akira could only make eye contact, his hand stalled in pumping, but Ryuji didn’t stop in grinding down “What do you want?” His chest was rising and falling faster with the speed they were going at. 

Smiling, Ryuji felt like he was high off life, and coming down from a bout of delight. The fluffy feeling being kind of hard to describe when you’ve got a raging boner being taken care of by the man who’s got his cock in your asscheeks, “I want you in me, I want to feel you.” 

Laughing lightly, he tightened his grip and started up again, “Feel you? Like how?” 

As awkward as it was to do, Ryuji leaned down, a grin still plastered on his face, voice barely above a whisper. Only to that volume so that his hot breath could hit his ear better, “Deep. As deep as you can go. Mess me up.”

The first loud moan escaped when he felt Akira squeeze incredibly hard on his dick, “Well… when you put it like that.” 

Of course it was easy. To slide in and get a rhythm going, to feel the pleasure within every fiber of their beings. They’d been at it for years, muscle memory working with the both of them. That pleasure was already collecting between them as Ryuji rocked his hips back and forth, head thrown back, panting into the thick air. Feeling each and every thrust Akira made, the timing just right to meet an exceptionally good grind. 

His hands were pressed down onto Akira’s chest, and every time he’d look straight into those half lidded eyes, and take a moment to listen to the panting, he’d quicken his pace a bit more. So full, no matter how many times the two of them could fuck over the years, Ryuji was sure he was shaped to fit Akira by now. 

Times like these made Akira so devoid of his usual self, almost like those moments were the only times he’d ever felt unsure in his life. His hands kneaded Ryuji’s thighs towards his backside, like they didn’t know where else to go. It was almost… hotter in a way to him, to have complete control over his lover like this. Even if he wasn’t tied up, even when he had the chance to bud in and fuck as fast as his hips wanted him to, Ryuji held him down. 

Moaning out his name, Ryuji let his eyes trail to the cracks in the ceiling again, the slow grind just enough for him to not be overwhelmed. Every so often he’d feel Akira almost hit the royal spot, clenching up a bit as he sucked in enough air to keep going. It had caused tiny gasps to escape from the man below him, eyes screwed shut as if opening them were illegal. 

_ “I love you,”  _ he managed, deciding to pick up the pace slightly, lifting himself higher off of the throbbing cock, and feeling the pay off as he crashed down onto Akira. 

His hands had a mind of their own as they fell to lay on top of Akira’s, not knowing if this was an attempt to move their placement or not. Ryuji could feel the knuckles beneath his palms move when he bounced a few times, and it made everything impossibly more intimate. Maybe he wanted him to get rough in kneading, pointer finger able to catch the metal of his ring as Akira dug his finely trimmed nails into his flesh. And the immediate switch was swift. The other had relented and instead, moving his hands, he interlocked their fingers, bringing their connection higher, Ryuji was proud of his fiancée for supporting his weight like this. 

Pushing back on Ryuji to keep him upright had proved to be successful. The new angle they’d achieved had ultimately caused the head so deep inside him to strike his spot almost  _ directly.  _

“Oh fff-“ he mimicked the action yet again, “Fuck!” Finishing off with a curse, too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than that at the moment. 

This revelation brought the slack jaw that sat on Akira’s perfect face, open, panting. His eyes were rolling back into his head easily, due solely to the fact that his lids were heavy and hardly open. And as much as Ryuji was getting out of this, seeing the absolute desire on the one he loved had caused a wave of satisfaction to wash over his vulnerable body. 

Grunting, after all this time Akira had managed to say something, “You’re so tight Ryu. It’s like you’re swallowing me whole.” 

Taking the opportunity to capitalize on the steamy talk, Ryuji grinned, “Ahhh- yeah? You like it when I get all tight for you?” 

A couple of hard slaps between the two filled the block of time they’d had before speaking again. Thrusts getting quicker, walls getting more and more sensitive, he could hardly believe his own dick hadn’t been touched in ages. 

Dropping down once more to brace against his chest, Ryuji quickened yet again, causing a long and drawn out groan to escape from his lovers mouth, “Mmmyeah.  _ Yes,  _ I love it. It feels so fuck-“ making sure to interrupt with a crash down of his hips, the strained noise that came from Akira’s mouth was a sign that everything was working, “Fucking good,  _ oh god.”  _

It felt so insanely good to roll his hips as the thick cock slid in and out of him at a heavy pace. Ryuji’s knees were getting tired in the position he had to hold to be this close to Akira. Feeling them flex every time he moved. 

Akira was sliding in and out of Ryuji with every bounce he did. The pace had been straight for a while, and the feeling of the slicked up dick stretching him with each up and down motion was overwhelmingly fantastic. 

Grinding down, and picking up speed, it was hard for Ryuji to not let his voice out. Not too sure why he was keeping it to himself in the first place, a rather hard landing on the one below him caused a moan to come from his throat. Loud, and lewd, whatever was just done was good for the both of them as Akira’s eyes rolled back. 

He could tell Akira was close, anyway. And since Ryuji was allowed to lead this session, he could do whatever he pleased. Sitting back up and grinding down exceptionally harder than any other time, trying to get one last feel out of this wonderful ride. Knowing now, that he’d like to use it a bit more often than they ever had. 

Of course they’d taken their respective rides on each other before… but to this extent..? Ryuji was ready to whip out some handcuffs when they both went back home. 

Leaning back, the dick inside him was practically throbbing as he spoke, “Fuck me Akira I can’t take it.” 

For a moment, Ryuji let his ears and eyes relax. Staring at the man he loved so dearly, hair more curly and wild with the sweat from a good fucking. He was panting, and the contrasting blue of the moonlight to his forehead, blended with the flickering candles all around them. Dark colored eyes unfortunately could hardly be seen, but he supposed the picture perfect view he got was a good substitute. 

Still filled, he could hear the rumbles of distant thunder between the need for the two of them to catch their breaths. It would be dead silent without it, and they both went at different beats. 

Like a switch though, what seemed like a minute was likely fifteen seconds. 

Akira sat up, hands moving to hold Ryuji’s back, trying desperately to keep himself buried inside in the shift. Ryuji clung to him, readying for what was likely to come. 

Sliding his legs out had sadly meant his dick had left the warm insides of Ryuji. But, it didn’t last long. 

Ryuji felt his back hit the floor, still holding on tight to his fiancée, and knowing exactly what would be occurring when Akira hooked his arms beneath his. Nudging his legs to get in between, he involuntarily wrapped them around his lovers lower back, automatically, as if that's where they belonged. 

Positioning himself for just a brief second, it didn’t take long to immediately slide all the way to the hilt. 

He let out a shaky breath, looking straight up to Akira, and finally catching the well earned look into his beautiful eyes. Watching them, just as Akira had started to ruthlessly thrust into him. 

_ It felt so good.  _ It felt  _ right.  _ The length going in and out of his tight hole at an aggressive pace, how could he  _ not  _ start to moan uncontrollably? One hand moving to the mop of black hair, he gripped it tight to match the feeling below. 

“Oh fuck.” Ryuji successfully got out, hearing the slap of Akira’s balls hitting him. Clapping along to the fast beat of the pounding, the grunts that were sounding off above him showed just how wonderful it was. 

It was like nothing, the in and out, the rapid movement that caused his insides to tighten. With his free hand not currently in a vice grip to the curly black locks of the aggressor, Ryuji reached down and began to stroke himself. 

The cock inside him didn’t stall for this action, passing the tight ring like it was nothing as Ryuji thumbed at his leaking head. The pleasure from everything happening at once had caused his mouth to move uncontrollably, outwardly moaning at all of the feelings coming on at the same time. 

This action made room for Akira to bury his face into Ryuji’s shoulder, connecting them further, it caused the speed between them to somehow go  _ faster.  _

He didn’t realize how much he needed to climax, but he was feeling it coming on within probably one minute of stroking, it was quite evident. 

Quickening the movements of his hands, Ryuji squeezed even harder as the build up started to increase rapidly. Wrist jerking a mile a minute still didn’t match the rate at which he was being pounded into. 

Between the two of them, all that could be heard was the breathy,  _ “ah, ah, ah’s.”  _ flowing straight from Ryuji’s mouth. Accompanied by the squelching and slapping sounds, it created one hell of a symphony. 

Before Akira could even announce his own closeness, Ryuji squeezed out an orgasm from himself, not aware of how ready he’d been to bust a load this whole time. He about screamed, the almost immediate overstimulation not helping him come down so easily. 

“You just got so fucking tighter than before,” he heard, the hard pounding into him seeming routine at this point, “I’m so close.” 

Akira grunted, and somehow began to move his hips even faster. Ryuji wondering distantly if he should’ve put a speed limit on his dick, those thoughts were short lived with the aggressive force between his legs distracting him from his thoughts. Feeling the sweat between the two, already sticky even if they weren’t finished, the world hadn’t seemed like it existed beyond the room. 

Not caring too much about his hand and the streaky white cum that painted it, he haphazardly wiped it against the blankets below them, as Ryuji moved both hands. Letting go of Akiras hair, and instead holding his face, bringing it up so he could get a front row seat to his expression. 

Smiling to himself at the beautiful flushed look, Ryuji felt satisfied in knowing he was the one that did that. He wanted to take a photo and hang it on the wall to show everyone his achievement. But he knew it would be strange… 

And as well to decide against any picture taking,  _ that expression was only for him to see.  _

__ Hungry look deep into his pupils, the workout of fucking relentlessly had made his hair look wet. Feeling the damp strands tickle his fingers, watching as the eyes he loved flicked up towards him. 

Ryuji’s legs bounced along with the force of the thick and throbbing cock sliding in and out of him at an accelerated rate. The both of them moving with each other, even the blankets on his back had felt irritating to his skin. The friction of him moving along perfectly in sync with Akira, came at a price. 

Likely he’d regret the rug burn in the morning… but right now he couldn’t possibly focus on anything but his fiancée pounding into his ass. 

Looking up to catch the wild look on Akira's face, he was met with the scrunched up features. Brows pinched tight together, nose wrinkled, and mouth grimacing at the pleasure he was likely feeling… if Ryuji knew anything about his lover. He knew when he was close. And the shaky grip he held on Ryuji’s shoulders helped seal the deal. 

The thrusts became more aggressive right before Ryuji forced direct and complete eye contact. Looking straight into the most beautiful colored eyes in the universe, he almost  _ demanded _ it.

“Cum for me, Akira.” 

Just as well, he slammed in once more, so hard it caused Ryuji’s whole body to shift up. A long and drawn out moan fell from his mouth as piddly little thrusts followed, getting every last bit of cum out. His mouth hung open, the candlelight could show the sweat that had made his face shiny. 

It was like they’d just fought a battle… and with the mindset Ryuji had now, perhaps they did. 

Exhaustion took over Akira's body, slowly sliding out, still panting, he crashed down right next to Ryuji. Slack, looking boneless following what was probably one of their best fucks. 

He’d likely be a tad sore the following morning, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before. 

They lay in the afterglow. Moonlight trickling in through the front window to cover the both of them in a white hue, thunder closing in now. Sticky bodies were already tired beyond belief from a multitude of things, and steamy sex sort of topped it. 

“Thank you, ‘Kira.” Ryuji smiled, rolling to his side to see the love of his life. Breathless still, Ryuji loved to see him like this, to see him whipped to the point of exhaustion.

That being said of course, because when he wasn’t in control at all, he almost always felt like passing out. Close to laughing out loud at the thought of their first time, and the fact that he did not remember anything afterwards. Just, waking up with an ache to every part of his body… Akira could be wild when he wanted to be, and tonight was proof. 

Akira returned a fond grin, mimicking the shift as he lay to face the other, “Always, Ryuji.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl the last part will probably take a tad longer to put out. But we all know y’all came for that porn tag. 
> 
> Leave me comments for my health lol! Love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

On his knees, the floorboards creaked when he pulled a box towards him. Not sleeping at all the night before, the sun had barely risen when he decided to move along and get things going. Starting with the study, walls bare, but ground covered by boxes, many open, some still taped shut. 

He’d watched Akira sleep for the most part, which would be creepy if they weren’t longtime lovers. So he was calm and collected as he sifted through the first bit of junk. Pulling out old, torn magazines. Things he could understand wanting to keep, but never really finding a place for. Even if you didn’t know when you’d use the crossword puzzle book you got from the train station, why get rid of it? 

Taking a marker, the sound of the dulled tip hitting the cardboard filled the room with the sound of, ‘TRASH,’ being written down. Sliding it towards the door with a click of the cap back down. 

It was tedious, but the bulk of what needed to be done, was sorting and sifting, clearing up what they could before they sold the house. Already having couples looking to flip it, it was best to get as much as possible to increase the sale price, and make it far easier on his mother to get it out of her hands. 

Dragging another box across the hardwood floor, and cringing at the sound it made when it scraped, Ryuji shifted to his knees to open this one. The blank sides of all the cardboard left a mystery element to the whole thing, which brought at least  _ some  _ excitement to something so boring. Crossing his fingers, maybe this box had something worthwhile. 

_ Maybe,  _ he hoped,  _ it had some collectible item worth a shitload of money.  _

Maybe it had something interesting. It could be blankets, or old ceramic statues of cats… 

Maybe he could pull something out that could leave him with fortune, or happiness. 

Ryuji would rather have that be handed down by his old man, over the shitty heirloom of self-destruction, and the memories that still made him flinch to this day…. 

_ Maybe.  _

__ It turned out to be none of the above. 

Scrunching up his nose at the contents, Ryuji could only sit and stare at all the photographs stacked up haphazardly in the box. Some on the top had water damage, some were crinkled, or so poorly shot you couldn’t see a damned thing. 

Choosing to dig rather than immediately toss away, he’d sorted through photo upon photo of people he never knew. People who were probably long gone by now, standing in places that probably now, looked nothing like how it did in the image. Gritty quality, still able to show the strangers smiles and expressions, although their faces didn’t ring any bells, Ryuji pushed on.

There was a large stack of photographs at his side when he’d finally reached something good. 

Switching to a more comfortable position, he’d sat down on the floor with an interesting assortment of pictures. Blinking twice to make sure he’d genuinely seen what was on them correctly, somewhere inside him had forced everything to click. 

It was a photo of his father as a teenager. Smiling wide, his beaming was a match to whatever metal he held up for the camera, Ryuji swore the picture burned his hand. Yet, he couldn’t drop it.

His dad was happy once. 

The person in this photo had never touched a bottle of alcohol in his life, and with how nice he looked… it showed. 

To know the man he hated to his core had once lived a normal life,  _ a happy life,  _ kind of stung in a way he didn’t quite expect. The glossy piece of paper between his fingers showed a world years before Ryuji was born. Judging by how old his father had looked, he must have at least known his mother at that point. Remembering the fact that they met in high school vaguely when he’d asked his mom about it on a whim. 

Quickly moving on to the next photo, he could recognize the faces of his own grandparents. 

Truly this had shocked him. Not having seen the two of them ever since his father left, Ryuji was always curious as to what happened to them. Wondering if they ever missed their only grandson, and questioning the silence heard all those years… knowing deep down that they’d taken their son's word for everything.  _ Even when his words became twisted over the years.  _

__ They were younger too, posed next to each other with loving grins. Their faces didn’t send the same emotions to Ryuji, he wasn’t angry to see their youthful charm on glossy paper. He was saddened to know he’d never be able to hear the story behind it, or any stories from his grandparents for that matter. 

A photo was stuck to the back of it, however. 

Careful not to mess it up, Ryuji peeled it back. 

Shockingly he was met with his own face. Sunlight in the background flushing out most everything, Ryuji stared at a picture of him when he was just eight years old. 

He still wore a smile, which was refreshing to see, since most of his childhood photos were taken during the rough patches of his life. The kid looking back at him with such a huge beam, held up a frog, proud of the catch. 

There were a few teeth missing, he was obviously dirty, and likely his mother scolded him for wrecking his shirt. 

Ryuji didn’t remember the photo, but he remembered his father's words had started to become more vicious around this time. Yelling at him more for the smallest things… The genuine happiness in the photo was the key to place it in a time before he heard muffled arguments late into the night. That was before he’d lost his innocence due to a few rough shoves and a burn mark to his wrist. 

Setting it down before he spiraled, Ryuji sorted through a couple more strangers before he saw a baby photo of himself. An infant with hardly no hair at all, sleeping peacefully in someone’s arms. 

There was one of his mom, her hair short, tacky and all the more fashionable sweaters so big on her. Leaning on a counter with the oldest phone Ryuji had ever seen pressed against her ear, mid conversation, toying with the cord. 

She was so pretty. 

She still was pretty, of course. But life took away certain things from her that helped mask what was on the surface. 

Out of all the men she could have chosen, she settled for a smooth talking man who knocked her up before they’d even gotten to know each other’s favorite colors.  _ She looked so happy in this photo, so Ryuji could tell it was far before he was born.  _

Immediately under that one was a picture of himself at a track meet, pointing at his racer number with an excited smile. The red uniform had paired well with his dark hair. No bags beneath his eyes yet, this was likely taken before Kamoshida had started to push them all harder. 

If only he could relive the feeling that running track like that gave him. The wind catching on his face as the other runners disappeared in his wake, sounds of tennis shoes scraping against the black top… distantly he could hear his name being chanted. Sweat rolling down his back as he hit that finish line. 

This one was easy to place, because Ryuji had beat his time by a large margin. 

This one also made him pause before he’d continued digging. 

_ This was at a track meet.  _

The face in the photo was one that already had to be crafted specifically around his father so that he didn’t get swatted. The eyes had watched his dad walk out a few months before, the ears had listened to his own mother’s broken sobs on the kitchen floor. 

_ How the fuck did his dad have this, when he left a half a year before it was taken?  _

Quickly, he tilted the box towards himself, looking rather frantically at the faces on the surface. Ryuji stuck his hand in and stirred up the various pictures, getting on his knees to get a better look into the box. Strangers with lives he’d never known had slid in between his fingers. 

Until, he stopped moving. 

The floor creaked when he sat down with the next picture in his hand. 

His face stared back at him, happiness radiating from the close way he was hugged up alongside who was next to him. Awful Christmas sweaters and cheap Santa hats, if pictures could talk, Ryuji wanted to ask how and why his father got to be in possession of this. 

Not only did he see himself holding up a crockpot during the holiday season… he saw his fiancé sitting tightly next to him, shoulders touching. Hands both sharing one side of a crock pot, which turned out to probably be the best gift they’d gotten in a long time. 

Fumbling with the camera, excited over her gift to them, his mother had taken a ton of photos of the two that day. The jolly joy of Christmas always had bad memories attached, ones that showed a time when she couldn’t afford presents… and a time her husband had chosen to be all the more violent. 

This one was taken ages after his mom and him could finally attend family parties without wearing long sleeves to cover the bruises. The two of them had healed in more ways than one, and it seemed to be that the greatest gifts they received on the holiday, was the chance to see each other smile with no pain behind their lips. 

Ryuji sat numb. 

His own mother, who strived to erase the man from both her, and her child’s life, came in contact with him to send these photos. 

There was a sense of betrayal that started to fill his mind, placing a hand over his mouth as his eyes burned holes into the paper. All the years of pain and absolute torture, the nightmares Ryuji had, the way they both flinched at the smallest noises… and she had sent him pictures. 

The ghostly feeling of hands wrapped around his throat began to come upon him. Not knowing if he was choking up, and felt like it was becoming tighter due to a panic attack, or he was feeling the rough fingers clamping down on his sensitive skin once more… nothing felt at all as it should have been. 

Nobody else could have sent those photos to his dad. Nobody but his mom could have chosen to send them away to the monster. 

She took the time to print them off, when she knew how much trauma the guy had caused by just breathing. 

He didn’t even hear Akira walk in, only sensing his presence just in time for his fiancé to become concerned, crouching down in front of Ryuji to catch his attention, “What’s wrong? Ryuji?” 

Blinking, the feeling of hands crushing his windpipe had gone away. 

But anger soon moved in to replace it, tears welling up in his eyes in preparation for a blow up.

Handing over the picture wordlessly, Ryuji watched the confusion fall upon Akira's face. Looking at the two of them in color, it wasn’t hard for him to connect the dots as to why this was so hard on the other. 

“How..?” He asked, staring straight into Ryuji’s eyes, disbelief at what he was seeing portrayed in his expression. 

The way the mood switched, was an indication as to what would happen. 

“My mom sent them to him.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and scrunched up his face in complete fury, “She was still in contact with my dad.”

Immediately, he jumped to do damage control, “I’m sure there’s a reasonable-“

Ryuji wasn’t up for that, though. 

Ryuji was pissed. 

Standing up and away from the box full of memories, he pulled at his own hair, trying to prevent a multitude of things from coming apart. Feeling angry tears prick at the corners of his eyes, his mouth fell into a straight line of displeasure.

“She lied! She- she- she-” he was shouting and he didn’t care to know it, “He knew about my life! He knew about you, he knew things I never wanted him to know! He didn’t deserve to know about me!” 

Akira shook his head, “You’re right, Ryuji. He didn’t have the right to see your life, but I’m sure your mother wouldn’t do something like this to hurt you.”

Shaking his head he didn’t want to hear anything that sounded rational, too caught up in himself, thinking about how wrong it felt. Mind going to the fact that his old man got to see something he left behind carelessly years and years ago. 

How could she?  _ How could she do something like this?  _ Stay in contact with someone that was the likes of his father. Someone abusive, and terrifying enough to just think about to this day. 

He hated his father, and his mom knew that. She saw his looks of disgust when someone mentioned his name, how distant he was on the day someone brought the shitty man into the world, refusing to think of him on his birthday. She witnessed the various fathers' days where the subject of celebration sat passed out on the couch, not a care in the world for the card her son spent hours making for him. 

_ And Ryuji hated the feeling that the years he built up, away from all of that, had been revealed. Shown to the one who started crafting the wall himself.  _

_ He never wanted his father to know of Akira, or any aspects of his life.  _

“Ever since I heard the bastard died, I was so fucking confused, Akira,” he started to breathe rapidly, feet bringing him to pace, “Do I mourn someone who I only share a few good memories with..? Can I possibly be sad over the death of the man who held me down once on the kitchen floor and choked me?” 

Nothing felt right anymore, and everything that had occurred in just the last week had suddenly collapsed on top of Ryuji, “I hate not knowing what to feel, and I’ve not said a damn thing about it to you. I’ve avoided admitting that this house feels haunted, and that every moment I’m in here seems dangerous.” 

“I got the call that day knowing the abusive fucker who still lives in my head, and forces me to struggle with emotions, was gone.” His chest tightened, and the growing pressure had caused the tears to finally fall, “But I think he’s going to be around every corner, that his death was some cruel joke to make me go insane.” 

If he kept going on like this, ranting into empty space, speaking directly to Akira like he could help any of it, he might regret what could happen. 

Growing up Ryuji was weakened by all of the abuse, hating himself to his very core. And the feeling he thought he’d abandoned when he met Akira, suddenly came back. It all rushed to his head, and forced him to lash out. 

His heart ached enough for him to continue, “I always wished for the day that he would finally take his last breaths. Hoping he went out knowing he caused so much pain to my ma and I. But when it came down to it, I actually felt  _ sad.  _ And it made me sick to my stomach.” 

Akira looked heartbroken, standing with the photo pressed to his chest, almost acting like he’d been kicked in the gut at hearing all of this, “Ryuji why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad?” 

_ He didn’t know, that was the thing.  _

Maybe he didn’t want to give Akira another burden to feel obligated to fix. Knowing for years that he could be the crutch that was needed to keep going in certain situations, with something this big, his emotions didn’t allow any sort of room to vent. 

It was hard to decide if he didn’t confess his feelings about his father’s passing was due to his own stupidity, or his own love for the man. 

“I’ve always relied on you, and I- I don’t know why, honestly,” Ryuji finally looked up and caught the eyes on him, “Something in me pushed me to face this alone, to just have you by my side over anything else. And I don’t know why.” 

It got quiet for a moment. 

Ryuji could hear his own breathing, breath still shaky, sniffling between each rise and fall… the room was still. 

Wanting to get over what had just happened, he tried to take away the focus that was still held on the photo. 

Key word was try.

Because all over again, he was furious. 

Clenching up his fists, and remembering the years of taunting that came after his leg broke. He struggled to control his anger, not ever wanting to live up to his father, and follow in his footsteps… 

But he hadn’t been this mad in years. 

Trying his best to control it, wasn’t easy. And that fact was proved when he let out a cry of anguish. 

Lurching forward, Ryuji reared his leg back and kicked the box of pictures as hard as possible. Watching it fly on the hardwood due to the force used. 

Photos fell from the cardboard, the box tipping and even sending some flying up into the air. Countless memories stopped in the moment and saved in color found themselves soaring through empty space, lightly coming to rest all around the crime scene. 

Doing that felt good for Ryuji. 

Stepping over all the faces captured on paper, Akira moved out of the way as Ryuji made his way to the box again. Shaking with so much anger that he was practically vibrating off the floor, the light from the window showed that his tears had begun to fall faster. 

His goal was to destroy the box. Lifting his leg high up to do just that, he was actually getting something out of doing this. 

Pretty soon, he would begin to fall too. 

The pain that erupted in his upper thigh as his foot crushed the old cardboard, was immediate, and overwhelming. His hands moving to grab at his leg like it could do anything to help, it was inevitable that he crashed to the ground.

Akira moved to his side immediately, feeling the gentle hands on him as the sting flowed all throughout his leg. Hissing, crying out like he had just been shot, something broke all over again. 

When Ryuji closed his eyes, he saw the gym floor, and the feet of the man who ruined his life beyond repair. Sneakers moving to put even more pressure on his thigh that already looked disfigured, he could tell it was just his trauma putting the image in his brain… but it didn’t make it feel any less real. 

He was having a panic attack. 

He was having a breakdown all brought on by a stinking photo. 

Kamoshida towered over him, snarl just like the day he’d fucked up his track career. He looked darker, and it may have been the filter this shitty memory had on it, but something seemed more sinister in his face. 

“Ryuji.” 

His leg hurt like hell. 

“Ryuji.” 

He felt awful for blowing up like he did in front of Akira. Knowing for certain that it wasn’t his fault in the slightest, yet still showing him the violence pressed into his veins. 

Crushing a box made all the memories come rushing back, flooding his mind. 

“Ryuji, it’s okay.” 

The image or Kamoshida was wiped away, and he squeezed his eyes shut to become bathed in darkness. The words of his fiancée right in his ear, he didn’t quite want to let his lids fly open just yet. 

_ He could hear Akira.  _

__ “Ryuji seriously you’re okay, open your eyes.” 

Shaking his head, just that little bit of reassurance that Ryuji was, in fact, okay and good enough to react, caused a sigh to escape from Akira. One full of relief, he’d sat back, hands still on Ryuji’s leg. 

_ When did he put them there? _

__ “I’m sorry.” He managed to get out, still stuck in the pitch black. 

Scoffing, Akira shuffled something, and of course Ryuji couldn’t see what exactly it was, “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” 

“I was an ass. I lashed out and-“

“No.” Akira stopped him. 

Finally, he opened his eyes, “Don't tell me ‘no,’ I did something shitty to you-“

Again, he was interrupted, “I told you no.”

“ _ Well,  _ I said yes, so let me say I’m sorry-“ he tried once more. 

Twisting his neck to look at the man, Ryuji was met with a confident expression. Face showing off far too much persistence for his liking, “I told you, you don’t need to apologize. So shut up before I make you.” 

Quickly afterwards, Ryuji snapped his mouth shut. 

Akira wouldn’t let him talk bad about himself anymore, eyeing him with such sternness, it felt like a crime to be so hard on his flaws. 

He gave a swift kiss to Ryuji’s cheek, “Get back to sorting, okay? I’ll come back up here when I’m done cleaning all the bottles downstairs.”

Looking over to him, Ryuji could feel his own expression soften, not so stiff and grumpy, “Thank you for doing that for me too.” 

Rolling his eyes in response, their age had shown perfectly with the crack of Akiras knees as he stood, “You don’t need to thank me, this is just something I  _ should  _ do.” 

Before Ryuji could shoot anything back, he disappeared into the hallway, and his footsteps made the rickety staircase creak. The entire house made sure to show everyone that there were in fact  _ people  _ here every time someone so much as walked.

He worked through the various boxes for what seemed like hours. Akira joined him not that long after he left. 

The movers were arranged for the next morning, and the Tupperware was found. Neatly stacked in one another, and tied up in a plastic bag for the woman down the street. Finally on their way to return to their owner. 

Small talk about most anything filled the space between them. The horrid noise of tape being pulled breaking the silence every so often, they’d laughed at the sound. 

It wasn’t hard to be like this with the person he loved. Not needing any conversation to feel the others presence, he was sure the man across the room knew he was there with Ryuji tossing balls of old tape at him every so often. Giggling like a little girl when they actually stuck to his shirt, and snorting at the look on his face. 

Akira had picked up a rather heavy box, and started to rummage just as Ryuji finished writing “donation,” to the one sitting in front of him. 

Trying to crack his back, he was starting to feel the repercussions of a bed of blankets, sex on the floor, and sitting on his butt sorting. Turning to his fiancée just as he faced Ryuji as well.

“Well, wait hold on. Look, here’s a letter. It’s signed from your mother.” Akira handed the rather old looking paper over, slightly yellowing envelope falling from his grip as he skimmed over the first few lines. 

Previously folded, the date was practically bolded at the top, the ink hadn’t faded one bit in the years it had been written. Careful swipes of the lines in the words, the somehow elegant way every single letter had been penned… it was quite obvious. 

_ It was his mother’s handwriting…  _

__ Picking up the envelope that previously housed the letter, in neat print, Ryuji read the address. The home he currently sat in was written nice below his fathers name, a dog postage stamp in one corner. In the other, a return address label, the cutesy design showing the place in which he resided all through high school. 

Somehow though, his mother still clung to that old apartment. His own room sat intact, the baby photos on the wall now accompanied by the smiles of his fiancée as well.

Focusing better now, Ryuji took a deep breath and brought the letter to his face once more. Making sure he was able to concentrate and let the words actually make sense in his brain, he sat back, and let his eyes follow each line. 

  
  
  


_ Hello,  _

  
  


_ I hope this letter finds you well. That is not a lie, with all my sincerity, I hope you are doing well. Thank you for signing the papers, and actually answering me back after all these years, and everything that’s happened. It means a lot to me that you’ve done this.  _

_ Although it’s taken a long time to come to the right headspace, and despite what you’ve done to me, and our son, I don’t hold any ill will. Your absence, while difficult, was the best thing that could have happened for every person involved. In the time it’s been since you left, I do wish that you found a way to be happy. Because I have, and so has Ryuji.  _

_ You don’t have to care, but since you took part in creating one of the best things in my life, I’m sure you deserve an update. Inside this letter I’ve included two photos. Our son has had his fair share of difficulties, and against it all, had grown to be such a wonderful man. He’s in a loving relationship, has kind friends, and just this year has gotten a scholarship for his university due to his fantastic ability to run. If you take a look, you can see his smile. That’s what makes me the most joyful… that he can still smile.  _

_ Anyway, this shouldn’t go on for too long. Again thank you for signing the divorce papers, it means a lot to me, and lifts a weight that’s been heavy on my shoulders. Forgiveness is something I’m still struggling to accomplish after all these years, watching my scars fade along with the memories of what it was like being fearful of you. I apologize it took me this long to write to you, and finally cut the last of the ties we had.  _

_ Please take care.  _

_ \- J. Sakamoto  _

  
  


Setting the neatly creased paper down gently, his own mother’s handwriting lay scrawled out right in front of him. The room now neatly cleaned, the window had let in the last of the daylight that remained. 

_ She contacted him to finally get divorced.  _

It should have felt like a relief to know she was able to get him out of her life… but something didn’t settle right. It felt like the moment was incomplete, and Ryuji couldn’t quite make up the missing piece that could fill it. 

The neatly written lettering was saying something to him, the words conveying something other than what was actually being said. Each space between the characters called out to him, and demanded action he didn’t quite know he wanted to act upon. The ink settled into the paper so long ago, it seemed as if the way Ryuji was reading it was wrong. 

_ It was like he wanted his own way of closing out their relationship too.  _

__ Why couldn’t he ever get the chance to completely cut off the family tie? Tell his father he didn’t consider himself the son of a man who beat him down long after he’d physically left. 

It was impossible to be upset with his mother anymore but… it didn’t feel right to be left out of the equation. Packing up all of this shit, and suffering in a dusty house for a weekend was not nearly enough closure needed to ease his worries. 

He didn’t want to be Ryuji Sakamoto. 

_ He didn’t like the Sakamoto part.  _

If he could simply drop it, and become Ryuji, maybe it would help him get over the lack of communication he’d gotten with his dad in his final years. Maybe he could breathe knowing that despite not being able to tell him personally he disliked being related. 

Suddenly the world shifted when Akira hummed a song that flowed through the room. 

One he didn’t recognize, it wasn’t so much the song that caught his attention, it was his presence. 

“Akira,” he didn’t really mean to stop whatever the man was doing, but the halt in his movements across the room showed that he did, “I just realized that I have a good way of closure…like, a cool way to cut him out for good.” 

Intrigued now, whatever occupied him could wait in interest of what was being said, “And what is that?” 

Folding up the letter completely with a slight grin to his face, Ryuji eyed the two photographs that belonged within the envelope. Seeing what needed to be connected with right before his eyes was soothing, “Absolutely nothing.”

Turning to the man, he smiled fully now, “We can keep on like we are now. Because pretty soon I won’t have to worry about a last name that has any bad vibes with it.” 

Looking up from labeling a box of items they’d planned to send back home to their apartment via mail, Akira smiled, no hesitation in the expression, “You’re right Ryu. That’s good, and we didn’t have to change any plans.” 

Closing the flaps to one of the last boxes in the room. The day had already reached noon, the sky not letting that fact be known in hiding the sun from view. Overcast due to the thunderstorm the previous night… thinking about their bed downstairs brought a slight ache to his back in more ways than one. 

Akira had been so lovely to him these past few days, and it’s all he could truly ask for from him. Going above and beyond expectations, and knowing exactly what was going on in Ryuji’s head, was obviously a plus. 

“She sent the photos because he finally signed the divorce papers… ain’t that something?” He laughed, taping up the cardboard, and standing up with a stretch. 

On the other end of the room, Akira was stacking up everything to get it out of the way, “It was literally the least he could do.” 

Laughing, Ryuji couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the statement, knowing damn well it was true, “I’m glad she got her own peace.” 

And with that, he continued on to collect his own ways of closure. 

They’d made the small trek down the road to the old woman’s place. The flowers and wild grass beyond her gardens made her home feel whimsical, and comforting. Years of work put into the landscape had paid off well. 

Her grin was nice to see when she opened the door and saw the bag full of her forgotten Tupperware. Grey hair tied up into a bun, Ryuji could spot signs of life besides her, noticing the tricycle that sat just beyond the porch. A bouncy ball resting just inside the doorway. 

Despite not knowing her, Ryuji felt good about everything knowing she had people who cared for her. Experiencing the joy of having a grandchild, and living out her days in comfort on such a beautiful property all to herself.  _ Certainly  _ his mother would never end up like this, preferring the city over the country by a landslide. 

_ She could retire in her own way.  _

Saying their goodbyes to her, they set back for his dad's home to pack up what little they brought with them. Making sure to leave extra room for what they might bring back. 

It was mostly photos, and little knickknacks that they’d stuffed in their travel bags. The walls seemingly more bare than before, what seemed impossible, had been achieved. Just the two of them managed to completely dissect the man's home, and clean it out in only a few days. 

_ A few days, and a lot of emotional turmoil.  _

__ Akira, knowing that it may be difficult for Ryuji, stood by his side as they did one last sweep of his fathers home. 

It was nice to have him there, standing at a safe non-clingy distance away. Not wanting to completely hover, he followed Ryuji with his eyes, watching him as he wrote a note for the movers. 

The best course of action was to donate all the useless stuff they couldn’t possibly take with them. So, leaving a slip of paper telling the movers they could help themselves before it was given away seemed necessary.

… or perhaps. Maybe he truly wanted to stay in the house for just a bit longer. To leave his mark there, and finally close out on how depressing the place could make you feel. 

His eyes wandered briefly to the spot in the living room where they slept last night, and he bit back a smile. It would be a good memory in and of itself, but the fact that getting railed on the floor in his dad's house by his soon-to-be husband had actually felt like a good way to, ‘leave his mark,’ was great.

No longer did beer cans litter the whole house, and even with that, the bad smell the whole place seemed to have, had started to fade by the time they’d gotten ready to leave. 

Finally, once and for all. Standing in the doorway and looking into the now clean and empty home, he closed the creaking wood. Watching everything that caused him pain in the last few days, disappear behind the door. Locking it, and placing the key in the mailbox. It was like they hadn’t even been there at all. 

The sinking feeling he’d had the entirety of this trip had all but disappeared. And surprisingly enough, as they walked to the train platform, he felt content. Not angry, not sad, or empty like he thought he would be. 

Leaning his head on Akiras as they waited for their train, the wonderful country scenery beyond the tracks really hammered in the mood. Like seeing the various weeds and tall grass swaying in the slight breeze, was the finalization of everything. 

The clouds even decided to open up a bit just moments before the screeching sound of their ride filled the air. 

Non-eventful things followed them all the way back to Tokyo, the feeling of their own home so inviting and warm. Ryuji practically ran to their bed room, and dove into the bed, basking in the comfort that the floor had taken away from him the previous night. 

Akira followed suit soon after, and they lay letting the sun dip below the horizon. Feeling arms drag him to a position in which he was being held. Letting a big sigh come from the depths of himself. 

Feeling the man fall asleep, Ryuji couldn’t help but to smile to himself. Closing his eyes into how good it felt to be smothered like this, listening to the faint and almost silent snores his fiancée seemed to make when he was exhausted. The warmth of his cheek was pressed tightly against the top of his head, and Ryuji wished to see just how squished his face was. 

Letting sleep take over him as well. Ryuji couldn’t help but to notice something. 

He’s never truly breathed until this moment. 

Maybe he’d taken it for granted, but when they’d finally gotten back to the comfort of their own place, the dust in his lungs departed. 

He’s never truly breathed until everything within him was put to the test. 

He could feel remorse for his father. Which is something he never thought of… 

And it could be the fact that the weight of his father was finally lifted from his shoulders. But, the world seemed a bit lighter now. There would be no more worries of that man somehow showing back up, or being around the corner to send Ryuji back to his childhood with hands around his throat. 

Feeling the wispy hair of Akira tickle his forehead, he adjusted himself to be more comfortable, closing any residual space between the two. 

For everything he just went through, somehow it seemed like a good thing. 

For once in his life, Ryuji Sakamoto felt truly content. And it’s all he could ask for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Pls comment it validates me 🥺
> 
> Anyway, I’ve had this idea in my head for literal years so have at it.
> 
> I’ve got a fem! Ryuji, old rewrite, and a secret Santa in the works so who knows when I’ll see ya !
> 
> I value you all so dearly!

**Author's Note:**

> See y’all for the smut next chapter lmao, sorry if it’s too sad. I tried to sprinkle in my humor like usual. 
> 
> As always, comments are heavily appreciated, I start a job soon and I’m in university now so it’s been a bit tough to write. Y’all make it much better tho :))


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